Spinning Your Wheels
by IConcurVehemently
Summary: Push, pull, push, pull - it never stops, does it? What exactly is the significance of Temperance Brennan's morning routine?


**I know what you're all thinking.**

**"Vehe, what are you doing? You have three other ongoing stories that are in dire need of an update - and you're bringing a new child into existance?"**

**Yes, I know. And trust me, I've already been excluded from tonight's family dinner because of my actions. But you know how it is - when inspiration hits, sometimes you're just along for the ride. And I was hoping I could coax it into helping me with a new chapter for something else. **

**So, enjoy!**

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You must not be working hard enough – it's the only logical explanation.

You started this class motivated. It doesn't matter that the snow is piling outside, or that the heating system in your building is out due to a temporary repair that is taking way to long, or that it's only five fifteen in the morning. You start this class motivated.

The instructor, a perky blonde in her twenties, politely encourages you and the other four "crazy people" who get up this early to work out to warm up. Warm up to what? The possibility that maybe someday he'll change his mind? The notion that "forever" might actually be a feasible road for you to journey instead of just some farce that the dreamers in the world see through their glassy eyes? The incredibly scary…_fact_ that you now realize you want to be more than "just coffee?" It doesn't matter – you oblige. You'll warm up.

She – is Katie her name? – then pushes you through a series of hills. They're challenging, no doubt, but they're nothing you don't deal with on a daily basis. After all, you two are partners – you push for him to be the best agent he can be, and he pushes you to be the best anthropologist you can be. And oh, how he pushes you. In the same smooth yet forceful manner he shoulders in the doors concealing the murderers you bring to justice, he pushes down the walls you've painstakingly built to conceal your emotions. In the same way he pushes the scum you arrest for killing, _murdering_ an innocent life to feel remorse and guilt and pain, he pushes you to feel too. He pushes you to be human.

So now, through these hills, you push too. Down into each pedal stroke, _push, pull, push, pull,_ as Katie or Kathryn or whatever her name is yells, "Add a gear! Make it harder! Feel it! _Push_!" And little does she know, but you push, and you push, and you push. You close your eyes, and a small grunt escapes your mouth, and now you're rocking from side to side, using your entire body weight to push against this hill that is Seeley Booth.

"Fight for it! How bad do you want this?" _Kayla, maybe?_ yells – she has absolutely no idea. But you push, and you push, and you push. You squeeze your eyes tighter, and you wince as your muscles strain, begging for relief when there is none. You push, and you fight, and you feel, and you let the walls come down, and you try not to be afraid even when you're terrified, so you push, harder, harder, harder, harder, when will it be enough? Is it ever enough? _Push, pull, push, pull_, you continue, as if you are motivated by his "C'mon, Bones!" that you hear so frequently in your mind.

Karla – is that it? – allows the hill to finish, and gives some small recovery. You want to laugh – there is no rest in this game – but you'll take what you can get. "Time for sprints!" she announces cheerily. "You have ten sets of these, alternating between…" You don't hear the rest. But once she says "Go!" you're off.

You've done this before too. And once again, you're pushing and pulling with all of your might, faster, faster, faster, towards his silhouette which isn't really there, but he's pushing you to _feel_ it. So you race, throwing every ounce of energy you have into the silent fight to stay by his side. Don't think of when you've failed. Don't think of refrigerators, of kidnappers, of stalkers, of serial killers. Push, pull, faster, faster, _go, Tempe, go, _don't let him go. Race, get him, go, go, faster, harder, go , _ahh!_ Don't cry out as your muscles bunch, straining against your skin, just go. Go. Go. Go. Nine. More. Don't. Stop.

And so it continues, and every time you think you have absolutely nothing left to give, you dig down deeper and give even more. Come six fifteen, you're already emotionally spent – and you have at least eight hours left of this to go. Women always wonder how you stay so thin; they don't realize that every day is a constant workout for you. Push, pull, push, pull, go, go, go. It never stops, does it?

And at the end of every class – just like the end of every long, weary day – you realize you've just been spinning your wheels. You've truly gotten nowhere. But yet at the end of every class – just like the end of every day – you know that when four forty five rolls around tomorrow, you'll get up. You'll keep pushing, and racing, and fighting, and feeling. Every day. _Push, pull, push, pull, "C'mon, Bones!" _

"Good workout, today!" Kallie chirps to you.

Little does she know.

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**Whew! It's amazing what working out can bring you!**

**Please review!**


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